


The Queen's Scheme(r)s

by Argent_Vulpine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Court Painting, Dimitri Lives, Edelgard Lives, F/F, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fishing, Fodlan's Throat, Fódlan's Locket, Garreg Mach Monastery (Fire Emblem), Grand Progresses are Important, M/M, Minor Balthus/Hapi/Constance, Minor Judith and Nader, Minor Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Leonie Pinelli, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamorous Marriage, Polyamory, Post-Game, Rebuilding Fodlan, Verdant Wind route, what is a beta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argent_Vulpine/pseuds/Argent_Vulpine
Summary: Byleth can't pick between the two loves of her life... and they don't want her to. But is she really prepared for what a life with two schemers is going to be like?
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. Proposals

Byleth leaned against the windowsill, peering out of the Goddess Tower, her green hair catching in the breeze and tickling against her cheeks. It was… peaceful up here. She liked it, and the memories associated with it were… good, overall. Well, perhaps not the part where she’d been asleep for five years, only to come trudging up the stairs driven by a promise she’d intended to keep. Finding Claude waiting for her had been good, even if the news of the long war was… less than.

She heard the click of boots on stone - two sets - and straightened up, though she didn’t turn around just yet. A pair of voices accompanied the footsteps; a teasing, cajoling tone answered by the long-suffering (yet still amused) retort of the other. She probably could have understood what they were saying, if she’d really tried to listen, but it was nice to just hear them.

Their voices drew nearer, and she fidgeted. Since when was she a fidgeter?

Well. The circumstances were… unusual. Perhaps it was okay. _What would you do in my place, Dad?_ He couldn’t hear her, of course. Of everyone she’d tried to save… he was the only one she’d been unable to. It still stung, all these years later. The war was over. Finally, blessedly over. Dimitri was getting the help he so desperately needed, and Edelgard had surrendered when Byleth had told her in no uncertain terms what Claude’s intentions were. (She wouldn’t think about how many Divine Pulses it had taken to get the phrasing right, or the timing… She was just glad she had managed.)

“Oh, she’s already here,” said one of the voices behind her, drawing her back to the present. “You wanted to see us, Teach?” he asked. Byleth could hear the grin in his voice as easily as she could picture the smirk on his lips, using such an old term for her. Teasing her, of course.

She very firmly did not roll her eyes - fond as the gesture would have been - and turned around, looking over the both of them. Her Master Tactician and her Master of Spies. They’d happily taken on the roles when she’d asked it of them, knowing that she would need trusted allies in her role as Archbishop of the (slowly reforming) Church of Seiros… and the queen of a unified Fódlan.

Not that Claude didn’t have his own duties to attend. Almyra needed their king, after all, and he’d had to spend just as much time there as he did at her side. Such was the difficulty of running a country and trying to make things work the way he’d dreamed.

Two pairs of eyes - vibrant green and gentle purple - watched her, waiting patiently. They knew her well by now, that she sometimes needed a moment to compose what she wanted to say.

She’d been rehearsing this one for _hours_ now.

“Claude. Yuri.” She reached out her hands to them, the shadow of a smile turning the corners of her lips when they each took one.

“Hey, friend, tell us what’s wrong, yeah?” Yuri was the first to step forward, his brows creasing with worry.

“I…” A pause, and then a deep breath followed by a slow exhale. “You both asked me to marry you.” The men glanced at each other, perhaps shocked by that. Or maybe not. Their expressions were hard to read right now. “And… I love you both. I can’t choose between the two of you.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t imagine life without them, both of them, at her side. Advancing one over the other just felt… wrong. And since she couldn’t choose, she was ready to let them both go. It seemed for the best.

Two pairs of arms were suddenly around her, nearly crushing her between them, and most assuredly engulfing her until she couldn’t see anything but lavender and deep brown locks of hair mingling together. One of them was shaking… laughing?! That was Claude, she could tell by the way the sound vibrated in his chest. Yuri huffed out a sigh. “Knock it off, von Riegan,” he groused somewhere above her.

“Okay, okay, sorry, I couldn’t help it.” They pulled back, though Claude put his hands on her arms, thumbs stroking against her skin soothingly. “Sorry, we’d… we’d come to that realization ourselves not long ago and… neither one of us is giving you up, By.”

“What he means to say is that we’re willing to put up with each other and… be your husbands. If you want us, that is.”

She blinked, mouth parting slightly as her brain tried to register what they were saying. “But… the Church…”

“You are the Church, now, friend, in all the ways that matter. You can set whatever precedent you’d like.” Yuri pressed up against her back, steadying her further, his arms wrapping around her waist. She couldn’t see his face, but she caught the look that Claude shot him. It wasn’t jealous or angry. In fact, Claude seemed… almost relieved?

He had the grace to look a little sheepish when he caught her gaze. “Ah, Teach, don’t look at me like that. Yuri and I get along great. I… I really trust him. As much as I do you.” Now that was saying something. She knew how hard it was for Claude to trust anyone. “And we all know I’m not going to be able to be here all the time. I’d hate to leave you alone like that.”

“You both talked about this?” she finally asked, twisting in Yuri’s arms to get a look at him.

“We did. We both love you, Byleth. And… yeah, I trust him, too. If neither of us can have you for ourselves, well… if you don’t mind putting up with us both, we want that. Giving you up… that’d be too much to ask.”

The tears welled up again, stinging her eyes, but they weren’t sad. Happy tears… she didn’t think she’d ever cried _happy_ tears before. _Dad, do you see this? I wish you could be here._ She’d have to figure out the ring situation later. Now, though… she flung her arms around her beloveds, pulling them against her, kissing one and then the other, marveling at this new sensation. Love, fulfillment… pure joy.

They stood that way for a long moment before Byleth suddenly groaned. “What will Seteth say?”

————

As it turned out, Seteth didn’t have a whole lot to say on the matter at all. He was still the Archbishop’s advisor, though that title now belonged to her and not Rhea.

Instead he’d merely pulled out a few musty old books that had probably been hiding in Abyss, judging from the layer of dirt and grime on them, and set them on the desk. “There’s precedent. Really old precedent. And most of it was a king with two wives, not a queen with two husbands. But, you’re already becoming known as the Queen of Change, so why not this, too?”

If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d almost suspect he sounded annoyed, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m happy for you, Byleth. If anyone can manage this, it will be you.” There was silence for a moment as he shuffled some papers around. “Just… please do try to make them behave, won’t you? At least in the monastery.” 

“No promises, Seteth, but I’ll do my best,” she replied with an amused smile.

————

Propriety required that Claude precede Yuri, being of noble birth and a king in his own right, but they’d expected that. There would be another ceremony later on in Abyss, surrounded by their friends, and Yuri would get his moment then. She wanted things as balanced as possible, but even as Archbishop and Queen of Fódlan, she had to placate the nobles _somehow_. At least for now. And if that meant putting Claude first in the ceremony instead of having them proceed together, well, she’d balance it out however she could. They’d agreed with her solution, knowing it made sense… and that it would make her happy in light of the circumstances.

Marrying Claude was the first step toward unifying their nations, and it was their shared dream, one she was happy to see through to the end. But she wasn’t marrying him - either of them - for that.

And, well, she got to choose their titles. As far as Fódlan was concerned, they were both King-Consort. Technically no real power as far as the populace was concerned, but, well… this was her Master Tactician and her Master of Spies. And her husbands. They already held considerable sway. What was a little more?

She’d teased Yuri about it, saying this legitimized his claim to being King of the Underworld, for who else should run it but him?

The church ceremony itself was long, full of the Fódlan traditions that none of them were the most keen on but which had to be upheld for the stuffy nobles of all Fódlan. (Okay, some of them weren’t stuffy, some of them were her friends who had to act that way for the truly rigid ones, at least for the time being.)

That night, Byleth fell asleep between her husbands, feeling safe and loved.

She knew what they were like. Knew that they loved her, and trusted each other.

It still didn’t prepare her for what was to come.


	2. Sitting Pretty (as a Picture)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for an official portrait to be done of the Archbishop Queen, and who better than one of her own Knights?

Byleth shifted uncomfortably in the seat, keeping her face as still as possible. To either side of her stood Yuri and Claude, each with a hand on her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if they were more uncomfortable than she was, but she imagined standing for as long as they had been was at least equally so.

Ignatz sat before them, his deft hands brushing paint onto the canvas, eyes occasionally squinting as he compared his work to the scene itself, making sure the lighting was right. They’d already sat for him before, to get his preliminary sketches out of the way, and now it was time for him to do the official painting.

The archbishop fought back a smirk at her luck, having claimed Ignatz as a Knight of Seiros before Lorenz could recruit him. She hadn’t forbidden him from taking other jobs, but he now lived at the monastery, and his primary duties now were to be her official artist. And not just for important things like this, but also to just capture life at the monastery: the way the sun set on the hills, the cats lounging in the sunlight, the dogs playing in the streets… and the students themselves, laughing and going about their days.

Reopening the academy had been one of her first goals as newly-confirmed archbishop, although she had made some distinctive changes. Students were no longer sorted by what part of Fódlan, instead being sorted at seemingly random, both to foster relations between the three former nations… and to ensure a healthy mix of skills, since each class worked as a unit on missions.

Another quite major change she’d made had been opening the doors to students from outside Fódlan. Petra had been the first to reach out about it, the Queen of Brigid wanting this new age of peace to broker stronger, healthier relations between their lands, and Claude hadn’t been far behind with talks of having Almyran students.

Change was coming, whether Fódlan was ready for it or not.

And part of that change came in the form of this portrait, depicting herself in her Archbishop regalia, flanked on either side by her husbands in their noble attire. Knowing she needn’t stay perfectly still, Byleth took a brief moment to glance first at one, then the other, feeling their comforting warmth. They returned her glances with soft smiles and gentle squeezes of their hands before their attention was drawn back to Ignatz.

Byleth lost track of time at some point. They’d all conversed for a while in soft tones, but the mostly empty room had echoed with their voices, and they’d subsided when it was clear that it was affecting the painter’s concentration.

A soft clatter brought her back to the present, her eyes snapping toward the sound, tensing up beneath her husbands’ hands before she realized it was Ignatz plunking his brush into a glass of water, a satisfied smile on his face.

“It still has to dry, of course, but it’s finished!” he announced, a bashfully proud look on his face.

She did not run… but it was a near thing, her pace quick enough that Claude and Yuri both had barely registered she’d moved from her seat before she was halfway to the painter. Byleth was a mixture of nervous and excited; she knew that Ignatz was an excellent artist, regardless of his self-deprecating during his academy days. And once she saw the painting itself, she knew she’d done well to commission him for the task.

It was, in a word, beautiful. Breathtakingly so. He’d managed to capture a serene, compassionate look in her features despite the expressionless mask she so often wore. She looked regal, more like the queen she was meant to be than the one she often felt she was. Her tactician and spymaster flanked her sides, looking down at her with such love and affection that she almost couldn’t breathe, seeing it depicted in this manner.

“I took care on the detail of the rings,” Ignatz said at her elbow, giving her a soft smile. “I figured you’d want it to be clear that the three of you are properly together.”

Now that he’d pointed it out, she could see it. She wore a band from each of her husbands, while they wore one from her. She’d had a jeweler recreate her mother’s ring for them, keeping the too-small original for herself, on display in their suite beneath a portrait of Jeralt. The light hit the stones in a way that made them sparkle, drawing the eye to their existence while not distracting from the larger image.

Yes, this is what she wanted the church to represent. Love and acceptance without borders – political or geographical.

On a whim, she turned and hugged Ignatz, ignoring his protests at the supposed impropriety and the sudden wobbling of the adornment on her head. “It’s gorgeous, Ignatz,” she said, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I love it. What do you think?” she asked of her husbands, who’d come at a more leisurely pace and had been studying the painting in silence.

“Excellent use of color,” was Yuri’s first comment. “The way the light comes through, it makes Byleth look radiant.”

“As befitting a goddess.” Claude scrutinized the painting as well, leaning in so close his nose was in danger of touching the paint. When Ignatz nervously cleared his throat, Claude grinned and backed away a hair, straightening up. “It really is a masterpiece, Ignatz. This will look stunning in the great hall.”

“I’ll be working on the copies once this one is safe to move. You’ll have them in no time!” he promised.

They’d agreed that Fhirdiad, Derdriu, and Enbarr would all receive smaller version to hang in their main halls. Technically, those palaces all now belonged to Byleth, though the reality was that she had staffed them with trusted allies – her former students – to begin the reparations and ensure a smooth unification. She didn’t have the time to spend traveling between them as often as currently needed, but she had already scheduled a progress around the country… with Seteth’s approval, of course.

Eventually, Dimitri and Edelgard _might_ be allowed back in their traditional residences, but as dukes, not king or emperor. First, though… first they had a lot to make up for. The people of Fódlan weren’t likely to forget that there had been a war, after all.

Ignatz busied himself putting away his paints and brushes, settling them into the case that had been made special for that purpose. He’d originally claimed it was far too grand a gift, when Byleth had presented him with it, but she’d pointed out that as her official artist, he needed to represent her well. That had been enough to get him to subside.

When he was done, she placed a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “Give me some time to take off this regalia and join us for tea?” she asked, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“O-of course! I’d be honored!”

“ _Relax_ , Ignatz!” Claude laughed and clapped a hand on the young man’s other shoulder. “This is Byleth, your old professor. You don’t have to be so formal with her. Or with us,” he added, gesturing to himself and Yuri. “We haven’t changed just because we have fancy new titles.”

The painter didn’t look too convinced. One day, perhaps he’d learn. And she knew he’d relax once they were actually having tea, away from the potential prying eyes that wandered around the church. It was difficult to relax and be yourself around so many people, she knew. Once they were in clothes that didn’t immediately remind him of their elevated statuses, he’d be much more at ease.

“You have time to put your supplies away. I’ll send Cyril to fetch you when we’re ready.”

“Right! I’ll see you soon, then!” He gave her a broad grin, relaxing a little, before snapping the case closed and picking it up with ease.

Once he was safely out of the room, the door closed behind him and no one else in sight, she flung her arms around her husbands, drawing them to her for a hug and planting kisses on their cheeks. “You both look amazing,” she said, voice soft. “But seriously, let’s go get changed. This headdress is _heavy_.”


	3. Rest & Relaxation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seteth puts his foot down, making Byleth take a day off. No work allowed! Claude and Yuri step in to make sure that actually happens.

Seteth, ever the caring (doting) hard worker (over-worker, frankly) had very decidedly forced Byleth to take a day off. No paperwork. No church business. No cardinals’ meetings or construction planning or _anything_ that resembled more than relaxing. He had very firmly told her that the bags under her eyes were unbecoming the Archbishop and that she should get some rest.

He was also a massive hypocrite, but she knew it was pointless to argue. They’d become good friends, despite such a rough start to their acquaintanceship, and she really did trust his judgment, especially in matters regarding the church. Deep down, she thought he would have made a much better Archbishop, but now certainly wasn’t the time to try and shift that authority around.

She’d give it a few years. Maybe.

In the meantime, she would do exactly as he suggested and take a break. If she were being honest with herself, it was much needed and she knew it. The strain of running an entire country – kingdom? – alongside the Church of Seiros was a lot.

There was a pang in her chest, the desire to see and talk to her father stronger than ever. What would he do, in her position? Not that he’d have allowed it. Jeralt the Blade Breaker as crown? She could imagine the look of disgust on his face.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” said a voice at her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. Claude grinned and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “We heard Seteth forced you to take a day off,” he continued, pretending oblivion to the look now gracing her face, “So we decided to help out. Yuri’s already drawn a bath.”

He took her hand in his, giving her a gentle tug. Byleth gave a longsuffering sigh but followed behind him anyway, barely managing to hide her smile.

Claude knew, anyway. He could tell from the way her eyes lit up, the very faint crinkling at the corners. Byleth might never emote as openly as others, but all the little things were there to be read by anyone who cared enough. And he – and Yuri – definitely cared enough. They’d seen the tension building in her shoulders, the way her neck was stiffening, the muscles around her eyes tight with stress.

He wasn’t sure if the spymaster had also spoken to Seteth, but Claude most definitely had.

Thankfully, the advisor had agreed that Byleth needed a break. She didn’t have to know that the concern had come from anyone else. She didn’t like to worry them, after all.

Their trip up to their suite was blessedly short; no one stopped them to talk to Byleth – Seteth’s doing, perhaps? – and so they were able to progress unimpeded.

True to Claude’s word, Yuri was waiting in the bath itself, the water already drawn, heated to exactly how Byleth liked it. Lavender petals had been added to the water, the scent permeating the room.

“You two are too good for me,” she murmured, giving Claude a brief kiss before moving to do the same to Yuri. “Even if you _are_ troublemakers.”

“Ah, but we’re _your_ troublemakers,” replied Claude with a cheeky grin and an even cheekier wink.

Yuri shot him a look that bordered on annoyed contempt. They all knew it was an act. “Speak for yourself, Khalid. I don’t make the trouble; I deal with it.”

Byleth snorted at that, allowing them both to help her remove the many layers she wore for her duties as Archbishop. “Is that so? What about just last week when I found that trap on the passage leading to Abyss?”

“Well, you can’t be too careful. That door is too close to our quarters and there’s no telling who might find it,” he retorted primly, carefully hanging her robe.

“The trap wards on the terrace?” chimed in Claude, earning a slight frown from Byleth.

“Wyverns and pegasi don’t only belong to the church corps. The wards are to deter unwanted guests from landing.”

“And do those wards know how to tell friend from foe?” Byleth asked, knowing that they didn’t. Or that Yuri hadn’t bothered to have Claude recognized. “You can’t set fire to Khalid and his wyvern just because he poisoned your tea. Although,” she rounded on the man in question with a glare, “You shouldn’t be poisoning his tea to begin with.”

That set off a chain of bickering between the two of them, during which Byleth finished disrobing herself and slipped into the water, sighing happily as the warmth surrounded her, penetrating down to her bones. She tuned them out, used to their antics by now even if the rest of the monastery wasn’t, nor was likely to ever be.

She knew the real people behind the schemes and the pranks – and the vague (or not-so-vague) threats of murder.

Byleth was dimly aware when the bickering stopped; more aware when two bodies entered the very large bath with her, their presence a comfort at her sides. Her eyes were closed, relaxing and resting as she’d been told to do, when one of them – Yuri, she thought – began to carefully wet her hair, using a small cup to pour the water on the green locks.

Claude had one of her hands in his and was gently massaging. Byleth hadn’t even been aware her hands had been that tight, but it certainly explained the increase in cramps of late. Who knew signing papers was more strenuous than wielding a sword?

With Yuri gently washing her hair and Claude massaging her hands and arms, it was no wonder that Byleth drifted off into a light doze. Their careful, loving ministrations reminded her why she loved them in the first place, despite their antics… though she had to admit that their antics had also had something to do with it.

She was only vaguely aware when they helped her out of the bath, drying her off with soft towels. Claude, noting how she was only barely awake, had scooped her up into his arms and carried her to their bed, depositing her gently in the middle while Yuri fussed with the covers, tucking her in.

They left her to sleep and to take care of their own business. Just because Byleth was being made to take a day off didn’t mean they could do the same.

* * *

The sun hadn’t traveled that far by the time Byleth awoke, stretching languidly in the bed. It had been perhaps a little more than an hour, but she felt much better than when she’d first woken for the day. Her husbands were nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t surprising. She _had_ missed their comforting presence in the bed, but duties called, she was sure.

One of them had laid out fresh clothes for her, she noted, spotting the pile on the vanity chair.

Might as well get dressed and head out. It wouldn’t do for her to be abed _all_ day. She needed to at least be seen, even if she wasn’t working.

She almost laughed when she saw what clothes had been chosen for her. An outfit resembling her old mercenary garb was laid out – a clear sign that she was neither the Archbishop nor the Queen for today.

Once dressed and with freshly brushed hair, Byleth ventured out of their rooms, giving a smile to her personal guard – the former gatekeeper – who grinned and saluted with a jaunty “Nothing to report!” as she passed.

Byleth took her time heading down the stairs, enjoying a leisurely pace that she maintained even when she took to the halls, nodding her greetings at those she passed. It was almost amusing, really; gone were the days of her zipping through the halls, startling people and causing no small amount of consternation with many of the inhabitants.

It was perhaps unsurprising that she ended up at the little dock on the pond, casting a line out over the water as she settled down, the tips of her boots barely skimming the surface.

She was alone for some time, her basket steadily filling with fish that she would take up to the dining hall when she was done, before she felt the shadow of a visitor fall over her. “Are you finally taking a break of your own?” she asked the shadow, smiling when Seteth huffed out a sigh and joined her at the end of the pier.

He did sit, though he didn’t put his legs over the end as she had. “I was checking in on you… but I suppose it can’t hurt if I take a little break.”

She gave him a slight smile, gesturing with her chin toward some spare rods. He took and baited one from her supply of bait, casting out his own line. “I see Leonie taught you well,” she noted. “You didn’t struggle even a little that time.”

Seteth gave her a look that she knew to be his feigned disapproval. It only made her smile broaden. “Yes, well, she was an invaluable resource.”

“Oh, an invaluable resource, you say? I’ll be sure to let her know you said that when I next have tea with her. She’s due back from the field in the next week or so.”

With Byleth unable to take over her father’s mercenary band, Leonie had decided to give it a shot herself. She’d been earning quite the name for herself. Jeralt would have been proud, she was certain, even if he hadn’t quite understood the woman’s attachment to him. And the group had taken to her easily, to the point she was unquestionably their leader.

They still called themselves Jeralt’s group, though. After all, his name had clout even if the man himself had long passed.

Beside her, her advisor made a strangled sound in his throat, perhaps mild panic. “Please do not tell her I said such,” he finally ground out.

“Mm. Perhaps I won’t.” They fished in silence for several long minutes before Byleth spoke again. “I’m glad that you have made true friends, Seteth. It’s not good to live such a lonely life.”

“I am glad, too. And for you, as well. I wonder… I wonder if Sothis suspected what would happen when you came here.”

“Hmm. Intuitively, perhaps. But she never did say anything.” A pause. “Anything that wasn’t heckling me, at least. Or making comments about others.”

He looked startled at that; Byleth had never before offered up what kind of things had been going on in her head, her secret conversations with the goddess. But the shock wore off and he laughed, a rich sound she didn’t get to hear often. Byleth grinned, pleased with herself as she saw some of the tension drain from his shoulders. “I’d ask what she said about me when first we met, but I’m certain I don’t want to know.”

Byleth hummed in agreement, turning her attention back to the pond. “I miss her voice still, sometimes. But… all the friends I’ve made, they help. I think she would be proud of where we are now.”

“That… that is nice to hear. Thank you, Byleth.”

The conversation drifted away after that, leaving the two in companionable silence until Seteth excused himself to return to work, taking the baskets of fish with him.

Byleth stayed a while longer, not fishing but simply enjoying the way the light played on the water’s surface, before she too rose and left, casting one last glance at the pond.

A fish – the one known as the Goddess Messenger – leapt out of the water, executing a perfect arch, before splashing back down. She smiled and turned, leaving the fish to its fun.


	4. The Progress Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude has gone off to be the very responsible and not-at-all scheming King Khalid of Almyra, leaving Byleth and Yuri alone to... go on a grand progress of Fódlan in order to make sure everything is going smoothly in the rebuilding efforts post-war. First stop? The (former) Leicester Alliance, the Eisner von Riegan estate, and tea with some old friends.

Claude had needed to return to Almyra, leaving Byleth and Yuri in Fódlan to keep on top of things there. He had only been gone a week and she missed him terribly; even Yuri seemed to be moping about a little bit. But, she had a country to run and a church to reform. Sitting idle was not something that she could afford.

“How are repairs to the township progressing?” she asked Seteth on their morning walk around the monastery. Yuri trailed along behind them, ever watchful.

“Hmm… all of the common buildings have been restored. The bathhouse is operational again.” He shuffled a few papers, frowning down at them until he found the one he wanted. “The tavern owner says that he’s stable enough to open back up, and he can use the income to repair the rest. Same with the inn-keep. We’ve employed at least one member from every willing household and are providing them a stipend that is… sizable enough to assist with reparations to their homes.”

She nodded, glancing behind her to see Yuri’s smirk. That had been his idea; Abyss had grown a bit more crowded due to lack of housing in the above. He’d reasoned a lot of them would return home if they had a home to go back to. And if meant getting them solid work? All the better.

Not, of course, that he would ever admit to being that kind of soft.

Rubble from the war had been cleared out, finally, the largest pieces being reused for the streets or buildings where possible. The fields were flourishing, the waters brimming with fish. Things at Garreg Mach, at least, were going smoothly.

“Yuri and I will be going on a progress of Fódlan,” she said almost absently, biting back her smile when Seteth nearly choked. “I trust you to keep matters here going smoothly, and we’ll of course give you our planned route. But I want to see how the rest of the country is faring, make sure that reparations are going as smoothly elsewhere.”

“You have people overseeing that…”

“I do, but I want to see for myself.” She stopped, causing him to, as well. Yuri came up behind her, silent reinforcement. “Seteth, I will not be the same kind of Archbishop that Rhea was. I’ll not be locked away behind these walls. The people of Fódlan need to see me. I am their _queen_ , not just their Archbishop.”

“Besides, how can I make policies for the good of all Fódlan if I’m not out there seeing what people really need? What they want?”

There was a long silence before he sighed, bowing his head slightly in defeat. “You’re right, of course. Rhea… was trying to control the people to prevent another Zanado, but in the process…”

“We’ll do better. We _have_ to do better.”

He nodded. “As long as I have your itinerary. When are you leaving?”

Yuri gave a polite cough behind her; Byleth grinned broadly, over-sweet. “Tomorrow.”

Seteth was a good friend, but he was also so, so easy to tease.

Their first stop, as it turned out, was Derdriu and the former Leicester Alliance. Judith met them on the steps of the von Riegan estate, having been warned of their arrival some days ago. She grinned broadly upon seeing the pair, ushering them inside. “Nader had to go back to Almyra, what with being Claude’s official Almyran retainer or something,” she said by way of greeting. “So it’s been just me and the staff for the last week or so, until yesterday when the first of your guests arrived.”

Honestly, Byleth didn’t even need to be told who it was. She already suspected.

And, upon turning the corner into the sitting room, her suspicions turned out to be correct. At least there were enough cups for everyone.

“Don’t you dare address me by any titles when we’re in my own home,” she began, waving him to silence as he stood.

Lorenz spluttered for a moment, looking affronted. His noble upbringing was at odds with her command, but ultimately, Byleth won out. She _was_ queen (and archbishop) after all. He settled for giving her a perfunctory bow, instead. “I hope your travels were easy, You-… uh… Byleth.”

“Easy enough, at any rate. I see tea has already been prepared. Your doing, Lorenz?” she asked with a smile, gratefully accepting assistance from one of the staff as they helped her shrug out of her traveling coat. It was whisked off to who-knew-where as she approached the table.

Five settings. “Oh, what’s this? Is Leonie joining us, then?” Lorenz gave an embarrassed cough, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

“I’ll go meet her at the door,” announced Judith. “Can’t have that lot of hers getting rowdy on the front stoop, can we?”

Yuri took over for the maidservant, pulling out Byleth’s seat for her and ignoring the fond eyeroll she gave him as he took his own chair. “I’m gonna have to tell Balthus he owes me 50 gold,” he said with a sly grin. “He thought for sure it would be another year.”

That set Lorenz off to spluttering even more, the two exchanging thinly veiled and oddly friendly barbs at each other.

“Here she is!” came Judith’s call, echoing a little through the halls. “Just this way, Leonie,” she was saying, directing the younger woman through the house.

“Oh, Byleth! Sorry I’m late, we were farther afield than I expected to be.” She came into the room, stopping long enough to give the tiniest of bows just so that the servants wouldn’t have anything to gossip about. Not that they weren’t already used to Claude.

For her part, Byleth had to hide her grin behind her hand when Leonie marched over to Lorenz and gave him a very sound kiss.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” the red-head said after, waving off Lorenz’s attempts to stand in order to pull out her chair. The gesture called attention to the ring on her finger.

“Dear, you’d better tell Balthus he owes you double.”

“Ooh, what did you bet on?!” Leonie asked excitedly, leaning forward in her seat. Beside her, Lorenz gave a pitiable groan.

Yuri laughed outright, and began explaining the details of the bet, much to Lorenz’s chagrin and Leonie’s absolute delight. That conversation took them through the steeping of the tea, when things calmed down and they turned their conversation to more serious matters, such as the state of the former Alliance, how the nobles were settling into their new roles, and how restorations were going.

It turned out that Leonie had accepted Lorenz’s proposal – which had been something of a surprise even to him – but had point blank informed him that she would be taking over Jeralt’s old mercenary band. They’d accepted her into their ranks easily, giving way to her leadership without a hitch. For her part, she’d turned them into something of a bandit-hunting unit, dealing with vagabonds and thieves.

Some of the people they’d dealt with had elected to join the group, bolstering the ranks.

The fact that Lorenz hadn’t made much of a fuss showed how much he really had changed. Byleth hid her smile behind her teacup, glancing over at a smirking Yuri. She’d made a good decision, then, forcing his father to abdicate in his favor.

Not that Lorenz would ever need to know that’s what had happened.

“We’ll be spending a week here, making sure everything is going smoothly. I’ll have a day in Derdriu specifically for petitions from the people. Lorenz, I’m trusting you to get that organized. I don’t want nine different audiences for the same exact petition,” she said with a groan. “Make sure they’re all grouped together. Have them pick out a spokesperson, if possible.”

“Leonie, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hire the crew as extra security. I know there’s already criers in the city announcing the forum. Ah, and before I forget, you’re both formally requested at Garreg Mach in three months’ time. The invitations are in my bag; I’ll get them to you later today.”

If only all her meetings could be as relaxed as this. The conversation shifted again, away from official business. Leonie and Judith began exchanging stories from the battlefield, with Yuri and Byleth and even Lorenz occasionally piping up with stories of their own.

Eventually, Lorenz and Leonie excused themselves, promising to rejoin them later in the evening for supper. Judith also took her leave, having correspondence she needed to see to, which left Yuri and Byleth finally alone (alone enough, at least) so that they could unpack their things and freshen up for the evening.

They knew to take their moments of peace when they could; the next few weeks would be rough in many ways.


	5. Travel to the Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Yuri have completed their duties in Derdriu. Now it's time to move onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter! Prep and recovery time from Sylveth weekend ate up a lot of my energy. Oops.

Their visit to Derdriu felt a lot longer than it actually was. The forum took the better part of a day, which was to be expected, and thanks to Lorenz’s assistance it went more smoothly than Byleth could really have hoped.

That hadn’t been the issue. No, the issue was dealing with all the nobles. Former members of the Leicester roundtable alliance, except there was no longer a Leicester Alliance and thus no need for their roundtable meetings.

They still _tried_. Byleth spent several hours reminding them that they were required to be at the twice-yearly meeting at Garreg Mach with the _other_ nobles for discussions on how to work out wrinkles in the unification of Fódlan.

It was a huge relief – to her and Yuri both – when they were able to leave and head out to Fódlan’s Throat. They were being hosted by the Gonerils for some very important talks with the Almyran king, after all, and the alliance of their nations was still technically in progress.

This despite her marriage to King Khalid.

The trip out to the Goneril estate – or fortress, really – was easy enough. While a carriage was available for her use, Byleth preferred to ride at the front of the progress, stopping at the smaller villages they passed through to speak with the village headperson, seeing how things were faring, what was needed from the region. She made sure it was all written down, a report compiled.

While they wouldn’t be able to help everyone, they could at least figure out what the majority needed and see to it, as best as possible.

People came out in droves to see the Archbishop Queen (Queen of Unification, Queen of Liberation, and a half dozen other titles she caught wind of). It made her tense, knowing so many people were looking to her to guide the entire country, now considerably larger than it had been before. And she knew that some – especially some of the nobles – were concerned about her playing favorites. After all, one of her husbands was from the former Leicester Alliance. Surely their role in ending the war would place them in a position of prominence?

Except that she had already put her foot down on that. There would be no playing favorites. Not even her husbands had been able to get away with it, and they’d definitely tried. Claude was especially bad, needling her to see what he could get away with as part of the Fódlan-Almyra alliance.

Not that she’d disagreed with some of what he’d wanted, but it was too much, too soon, and she’d let him know that in no uncertain terms.

A smile curved her lips as she thought about it, making Yuri laugh beside her. “Thinking of Khalid’s schemes, are we?” he asked, teasing.

“Something like that.” They were riding in the carriage for once, taking shelter from a sudden storm. Byleth wouldn’t have cared either way, but her entourage had firmly told her that the Archbishop Queen arriving anywhere soaked to the bone would look poorly on them, not just on her. She’d taken the hint and sought shelter. Yuri, being King Consort, was informed the same, though he was much less reluctant than his wife.

He and horses didn’t quite get along, after all, and he rode only because he needed to.

Yuri calmly draped an arm around Byleth’s shoulders, tucking her against his side. She gave a soft, happy sigh and snuggled in closer, enjoying his warmth and presence. “You think he’ll try some of his schemes at the Gonerils?” he asked, amused at the very thought.

“Oh, I have no doubts he will. Hilda won’t be pleased.” A pause. “Don’t you dare, Yuri.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest and against her cheek. “Maybe I already have, By,” was his cheeky reply.

Byleth gave a decidedly unladylike snort, wiggling far enough away she could poke him in the side. “If Holst catches either of you, I am going to claim no knowledge whatsoever and let him deal with you as he sees fit,” she muttered, an empty threat. Well… mostly empty.

The former Abyssian clutched a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. “You wound me, Your Majesty, with such cold words.”

Byleth rolled her eyes fondly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Whatever you say, Yuri,” she replied, settling back against him. “Wake me when the rain stops.”

He did not, in fact, wake her when the rain stopped… largely because it continued raining for several more hours. And, well… because he fell asleep, too, feeling safe and secure beside the woman he loved. They were both fairly light sleepers – Claude was, as well – which lent itself to restless nights for them all sometimes, but also meant that when their carriage stopped, they were both awake immediately.

It was Yuri who peeked out first, ducking back in before the rain could soak his hair. “We’ve reached the wayhouse for the night,” he informed her. “It looks like the guards are being granted shelter in houses and barns to keep them out of the rain.” He grinned at her. “Your subjects seem to like you enough to make the offer to your people.”

“Our people,” she corrected absently. “I suppose we should go inside, shouldn’t we?”

“Or… we could allow the retainers to take the wayhouse and we just stay here.” His grin was full of mischief… and a little heat.

Byleth couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting… and they _had_ slept for a fair portion of the day. What better way to spend the evening than tiring each other out?

Unfortunately, her sense of propriety won out. “As fun as that sounds, Yuri, I think they would be more scandalized than they already are. And we don’t want to upset our people.” She did, however, scoot closer to him, pulling him down for a long, deep kiss, as much of an apology as he would get. When he was breathless and flushed, she pulled away, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of his lips. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go join our people inside.”

He gave a short laugh, shaking his head, and dutifully followed his wife into the wayhouse.


	6. Entering the Locket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Yuri have arrived at the Locket to find someone waiting for them.

The Locket was an impressive beast, nestled in the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat, a fortress designed to keep the Almyran ‘threat’ at bay. And for a long time, House Goneril had done a marvelous job at exactly that, culminating in Holst himself being well known as a formidable general and warrior.

Of course, that had changed in recent years. The fortress was still in use, and ostensibly still there to protect Fódlan, but with the Queen of Unification being married to the King of Almyra, there wasn’t much to defend against beyond some particularly testy people on _both_ sides who were resistant to change.

When Byleth and Yuri arrived at the Locket, they were greeted by Holst himself, his younger sister Hilda… and King Khalid, who stood a little ahead of the pair with a broad, mischievous grin.

“It’s so nice that Queen Byleth has graced us with her presence,” he said, shooting her a wink. “I was wondering how much longer it would take you.”

She gave an amused snort and moved toward him, Yuri a half-step behind, while Claude descended the stairs to meet them. The three met and embraced, heads pressing together and arms tangling in a knot, hands grasping and uncaring who they touched. They stood like that for a long moment, until Holst cleared his throat, drawing them back to their surroundings.

“I hate to interrupt, Your Majesties,” and it was clear he included Yuri in this, “but dinner’s waiting, and I hate to let the kitchen’s efforts go to waste.” He said this with a broad grin, waving Hilda over.

The group began the climb up the steps, with Byleth looking around curiously. “No Nader hovering about?” she finally asked.

“Oh, I sent him on to Judith for a few days. His whining was terrible,” replied Claude with a grin.

“Your whining hasn’t been any better, Leader Man,” chirped Hilda from Holst’s other side, earning her a baleful glare from the Almyran king. “Ever since you got here it’s been nothing but ‘Oh, I miss them so much, how much longer until they get here, what’s taking so long’. Really, Claude, a couple days longer is nothing!”

Holst sighed fondly at his sister, but shot a sidelong glance at the trio of royals. “It wasn’t quite that bad… but it might have been close,” he confided in Byleth with a grin. “I have to admit, I was part of the group that wasn’t too sure how the Archbishop being married to two people would go over, but seeing you together, it makes sense.” He gave a decisive sort of nod, as if settling the matter.

“The situation is certainly complicated,” she agreed smoothly, hooking her elbows around Claude and Yuri arms, drawing them closer to her. “But we manage. And I have to be honest… I’m not sure if I’d be able to run things half as smoothly if I didn’t have both of them by my side.”

“The same for me. I know I can’t bring them both to Almyra right now, and things are still a little shaky, but the day-to-day stuff is made easier with more heads in the matter.”

Yuri seemed to take all of this in stride, not offering up anything of his own to the current conversation. Not that Claude and Byleth wouldn’t have listened; quite the contrary, they would have listened with great intent. But in this, he knew that he was the reason their burdens were eased. Without an entire country to run – or a church to govern – he had more flexibility, and thus an easier time being the person to help ease their strains.

“Hey, if it ain’t the professor!” bellowed a familiar voice as soon as they stepped through the doors. “And my pal Yuri!”

“I see they haven’t kicked you to the curb yet,” replied the lavender-haired main dryly as Balthus bounded into view.

“Well, not yet, but maybe soon!” he replied, his deep laughter booming down the halls. “Ah, I’m just stopping in for a few days before I head back home. Couldn’t resist a visit to my buddy Holst here!”

“So Constance _isn’t_ with you?” asked Byleth with an amused quirk to her lips.

“Nah, she was in the middle of some weird magic… thing… and couldn’t be bothered. She did say to give you this when I saw you, though!” And saying that, he produced a thick envelope, waxed and stamped with the seal of House Nuvelle. “Hapi included a letter, too!” he added with a grin.

While Balthus and Constance had married and resettled House Nuvelle to encompass Kupala, Hapi’s home, it was known to their friends that the trio enjoyed a relationship similar to Byleth and her husbands, if a little less official. Byleth had been told that it was her example that had them choosing to give it a go, but they preferred less public displays than those Byleth as Queen had to endure.

Balthus handed the letter to Yuri when he extended a hand, and he tucked it away for later; they would have time to read it after dinner. “We’ll make sure to write a response for you to take back,” Byleth assured him with a slight smile.

The group continued onward toward the dining hall, chatting amiably as they did. Yuri separated from her first so he could pull Balthus aside, catching up on important news and undoubtedly preparing to dispatch a few careful letters of his own. Neither she nor Claude had even bothered trying to turn him into a law-abiding citizen; they’d only cautioned he be careful with what he did now that he was in a more public view.

Still, the underworld was where he flourished, and he’d been ‘king’ of that long before he’d become King Consort of Fódlan.

Dinner ended up being a relaxed affair, with only the Gonerils, the crowns, and their close friends in attendance. A larger, more elaborate dinner would come the next day, when they had time to relax and prepare. This one would include delegates from Fódlan and Almyra, one of many such parties to get their nations to mingle and come to some sort of understanding.

It helped, some, that Byleth’s reputation as Ashen Demon had traveled into Almyra, as well; they respected her for her battle prowess, even if they still thought Fódlan’s elite were cowardly.

After dinner, Byleth and her husbands retired to the rooms set aside for them, taking time to bathe and then settling down in front of a hearty fire. Yuri was in the middle for tonight, the thick envelope in his hands, waiting for the others to get comfortable. When they were, he cracked the wax seal and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

“She really does talk a lot, even in text,” he muttered with a wry grin, leafing through the sheets until he found where Constance’s letter ended and Hapi’s began. “Let’s start with Hapi, yeah?”

“One sheet compared to four?” He nodded at the question, a move more felt than seen. “… yes, let’s start with Hapi.”

On the other side of Yuri, Claude chuckled, taking the other letter from the stack and setting it aside.

Yuri’s voice was soothing as he read, though he mimicked Hapi’s speech pattern perfectly. “Hey Chatterbox,” it began, “and Yuri-bird, and Claudester.” He paused, chuckling at the order. “Guess she’s decided who’s most important for this letter.”

Claude feigned offense at being last on the list, but it had no real heat in it.

Hapi’s letter continued, talking about the state of Kupala, how well it was doing now that House Nuvelle encompassed it. She spoke of seeing the stars from the mountains, and how she missed certain sweets from Garreg Mach’s kitchens (Byleth made a mental note to have some sent her way as soon as she could). She assured them that ‘Coco’ and ‘B’ were treating her well – how could they not – and that she was happy to be home, though home now meant going between her family’s home in Kupala and the Nuvelle manor.

It was not a long letter, more of a general update to let them know that she missed them and had been thinking about them. The gesture was appreciated by the trio. They missed their friends, too, but life after the war and with the shifting of power in the country meant that there was a lot happening that took them… everywhere.

Byleth took the letter this time, setting it down on her side of their pile while Claude handed the thicker mass from Constance back to Yuri.

It was addressed to them in the same order, but in a far more formal fashion. She regaled them with talk of her newest magical discoveries (and a few accidents as well), how they had been building outdoor structures for her to address the people of her territory in a proper matter, and a great many other things.

They all politely declined to comment when the tone shifted for about three paragraphs, indicated a time when she had been outside.

Yuri’s voice was soothing enough that Byleth had begun to drift off near the end of the letter. He nudged her to wakefulness and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Would you like me to write the response for all of us?” he asked.

“…maybe,” she said with a slight huff. “You write hers and I’ll write Hapi’s?” she offered, biting back a yawn.

“Deal.”

“And I… will get the bed ready,” announced Claude with a smirk. “… and then join you in letter-writing. I have a few I need to start penning as well.”

They stayed up late into the night, writing letters and simply enjoying each other’s presence, before finally climbing into bed, limbs entangling together as they sank into easy, comfortable slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters will show up at some point. Will tag them as they appear.


End file.
